


be still, my foolish heart

by pinarello



Category: ARGONAVIS from BanG Dream! AAside (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Wataru-centric, in its own way its a happy ending ok, this fic is just testimony to the fact that im a wataru oshi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinarello/pseuds/pinarello
Summary: Click click click, the sound of his unease.What to do when a pretty boy keeps looking at you?
Relationships: Goryo Yuuto/Matoba Wataru
Comments: 20
Kudos: 53





	be still, my foolish heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cottoncandyFRIZZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottoncandyFRIZZ/gifts).



Wataru’s fondest childhood memories were when he’d been tucked into bed, sharing a room with Kenta, with his father telling bedtime stories of Jason and the Argonauts.

He was seven years old and Kenta nine; two sheets of glow-in-the-dark star stickers were plastered all over walls and ceiling, and the siblings would wear matching sets of nautical-themed pajamas. Their dad still came home early, and hardly shouted at their mother. Kenta was still his warm older brother, his friend, his ally.

Life was good. Simple. But good.

Each time Jason and the Argonauts was told it would be a brand new adventure, just like on TV. When the family would go out fishing, Wataru and Kenta would be told a story of Jason fighting a giant whale. When he’d come home with high marks, a story of the Argonauts facing a test of wisdom. When the brothers would fight, a story of making amends. A story that always promised new adventures with fulfilling rewards.

Wataru often fell asleep before the story was over. The faint laughter of his mother and sweet words of his father served as his lullabies for the rest of his early days.

* * *

It isn’t until his second year of high school that Wataru picks up the story and sees that his father made up everything.

Jason and the Argonauts was far from the happy, seafaring journey towards fun and friendship that was sold to him. The real search for the Golden Fleece was long, dragging, and painful. By the end of it, no one was happy.

Funny.

Kenta and his father had moved to Sapporo, where they would never happen to encounter each other by chance. His mother hardly laughed anymore, if they ever happened to be home at the same time. His teachers would sneer at him with silent gazes of disapproval, judging glances, condescending remarks.

 _“You know you have to do_ something _with your life, Matoba.”_

Life is full of shit.

He only started playing bass because his brother picked it up. He thought that maybe, it would bring them closer; keep them together. But the moment Kenta chose his dad it was over. He would be the only one left to pick up the pieces of what he used to take for granted; A home, a family, and a story of hope.

He takes the ugliness of his emotions and weaves them all into verses and rhymes. Stanzas of longing, hoping, dreaming for something better. Messages that reach for the stars, each adventure more fun than the last. Words to accompany him when he falls asleep, like familiar friends and a love he wished still surrounded him.

There’s no story of hope to fall asleep to, so he writes and sings his own verses every night until he falls asleep on a pillow wet with tears.

* * *

Though perhaps, life isn’t always so bad.

… is what Wataru thinks as he clicks the end of his ballpoint pen repeatedly. He meets a boy in his college entrance prep class. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Always smiling. Always staring at him.

 _Click click click,_ the sound of his unease.

What to do when a pretty boy keeps looking at you?

“Do you play any instruments, Wataru?” The boy asks, his head resting in his hand. He smells like the ocean and talks like bright fireworks in the night sky. Yuuto feels like everything Wataru loves in the summer.

“Uh,” is what Wataru offers in response. “Bass.” The review exercises he’s looking at hardly register in his head.

“That’s it!” Yuuto slams the table in his excitement, making Wataru jump. “I play guitar! We could be bandmates, Wataru!”

“Eh?” Before he can get a word in, Yuuto continues.

“We just need to find other people,” He leans in, no sense of personal space. Wataru can smell the scent of his mint toothpaste. “And we’ll be set. We could go places, you and I!”

 _Yuu and I_ , he hears. He can’t escape his thoughts fast enough. Yuuto’s eyes are an impossible shade of sky blue.

“That sounds…”

_Reckless. Immature. Unwise._

“Great, Yuuto.“

“So you’re on board?” He shouts, and Yuuto’s two fists shoot towards the ceiling. “Hell yeah!”

Wataru almost slaps his mouth shut. The room had cleared out half an hour ago, but the echoes remind him that it’s just the two of them, alone, on a Saturday afternoon.

“You’re so loud, keep it down!”

Wataru can feel Yuuto’s lips smile against his palm. It’s then he remembers those warnings that played before his favorite TV shows; sitting too closely while watching something so bright could damage your eyes. Yuuto’s hand overlaps his as he pulls it away, revealing that grin Wataru was avoiding in the first place.

“I’m just really excited, is all.”

* * *

One thing leads to another and they’re in Wataru’s room after review school, instruments in their laps as they talk about their favorite songs. The late afternoon paints the room in a golden light that cascades through the curtains. Wataru ignores how handsome Yuuto looks in the sunset.

“Are these yours?” Yuuto bends down slightly to flip through the pages of Wataru’s open clearbook. Crammed in the back pages are notebook papers and sheet music scrawled with his handwriting, his words. Compositions he made late at night while his mother worked overtime.

Wataru runs as fast as he can with a bass in his hands. If he swats Yuuto’s hands away strong enough to hurt, he’ll apologize later. “Don’t go looking through people’s things, stupid!”

“You write poems?” The hit doesn’t phase Yuuto as he continues to read until Wataru slams the clearbook shut.

“They’re nothing worth looking at.”

“They’re pretty,” Yuuto tells him.

Wataru almost laughs. None of those were born out of anything pretty.

“I wrote songs when I was going through it.” Wataru confesses as fiddles with the tips of his fingers; even if the songs he’d written were in a fit of teen angst, they were personal. Messages intended for his eyes only. “The words are okay but the music is terrible. I don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Yuuto plops onto Wataru’s small bed, guitar in his lap. He waits and watches as Wataru turns to look at him with a look of horror. “Play me one.”

“No. I suck at singing.” Wataru responds.

“Think of it as a practice show! And you don’t have to be the vocalist!” Yuuto claps his hands together, looking like he’s offering a prayer. He has that puppy expression he knows no one can refuse. “Please, Wataru?”

There’s a twitching sensation in Wataru’s face as Yuu pouts at him. He‘s far too old to be pulling something so _juvenile_ , but it still brings a faint tickle to Wataru’s stomach. “Don’t laugh.” He opens the clearbook once more, looking for the least embarrassing song to present.

“I would never!” Yuu scrambles to sit up straight, as if proper posture is needed to listen to some fake deep poetry set to a melody.

After settling on one, Wataru closes his eyes and starts to play.

It’s a song of setting sail, a dream he’d had since he was younger. An endless journey of trailing towards an unnamed star. His throat feels funny as he confesses a childish wish of his; to embark on an expedition and invite those who wanted to come along. A dream that takes him away from the terrors of reality.

As he sings the last note, Wataru feels the weight of one’s gaze on him. He fixes his own on the light wood floorboards at his feet.

“Wow,” is all Yuuto has to say.

“I told you,” he braces himself for the worst. It’s ridiculous now; the way he’s exposed himself for an acquaintance to see. Not even his own mother has witnessed this. Wataru grips the neck of his bass a little bit tighter. “It sucks.”

“No, _wow_ , Wataru. This feels…”

“Terrible?” He offers.

“Like fate.”

Wataru blinks and looks up. “What?”

Yuuto‘s grinning from ear to ear, practically vibrating in his seat. “I can’t believe it! That was so _good!_ This must be it—” Yuuto leaves the guitar on the bed as he reaches for him; the first thing Wataru feels is the warmth of Yuuto’s hands on his.

“Fate, destiny, whatever it is,” His brown hair almost sparkles in the orange light of the sun. “I’m sure of it!”

“Shut up for a second and explain to me,” Wataru yelps as he tries to pull away from Yuuto’s grasp to hide the heat rising up his neck. “What are you _on_ about?”

“Wataru,” Yuuto begs him. “Please, be my songwriter!”

 _Songwriter_. Wataru was sure he was going to say something different. Not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed, but the tension in his body washes away.

“I’m telling you, your songs are the kind we need for the band!” Whatever inner turmoil Wataru is having flies over Yuuto’s head as he continues with his pitch. Wataru has to look away. “If you think about it, we’ll have to make our own songs eventually—”

“I’m not a composer,” Wataru attempts, pulling Yuuto back into reality. “Words aren’t enough to carry music.“

“We’ll find a composer, then,” Yuuto says, as if finding one was as simple as picking fruit. “I’ll find one! I’ll bet my luck on it!”

Wataru finds everything about Yuuto brash; No plan, no strategy, no exit route. It’s foolish and haphazard. But in a way, it was also charming. Just a little bit.

If it could keep them close, if it could allow Wataru more time with this oversized dog of a man; maybe it was worth wasting a little bit of his youth.

“Alright already,” He says it like he’s annoyed, but he isn’t, not really. “Just explain yourself better next time, okay?” Yuuto’s grip on his hand tightens and Wataru can’t help but fidget in his grasp. He gently pulls away from Yuuto before he starts to shout for joy in his quiet little neighborhood.

Wataru gestures back to Yuuto’s guitar on the bed. “But if you’re so set on your luck, we’ll need the skill to back it up.”

Yuuto looks like a pet with shiny new toys. “Yeah!”

For the first time in a while, Wataru smiles. And Yuuto smiles back.

* * *

Life still sucks. But it’s not like Wataru can complain.

Wataru and Yuu set sail on their journey to find worthy crewmates to board their ship. On their travels, they meet Nanahoshi Ren, Kikyo Rio, and Shiorishi Banri; one after the other like puzzle pieces slowly falling into place. Like they’re tied together with a string of fate.

Yuu describes their encounters with that word as well. _Fate_.

Over the course of a year, Wataru learns quickly that Yuu is always this reckless; he rushes into their lives, declares it destiny, and asks them to join him. He firmly believes they would have met sooner or later, regardless of circumstances. That in itself was a testament to how idiotically optimistic he was in everything he did.

He also learns that Yuu has lots of friends, and he cycles through them before and after class, and on the weekends. Part of his daily routine was to guess which group he’d leave at the door that day, laughing and making inside jokes Wataru didn’t get as they said their goodbyes.

It made sense. After all, Yuuto is now Yuu, but Wataru is still...

“Wataru,” Yuu calls him from the driver’s seat. The rest of the band is sound asleep at the back, their luggage packed neatly in the trunk. “What are you thinking about?”

 _Us,_ he wants to say. _If the relationship we have is special, the same way it is for me._

“Just spacing out, Yuu.”

There are things better left unsaid. Wataru has history with being disappointed with the truth.

“Well, I’m excited,” Yuu shares, his energy rising up as they go up the slope. “We’re moving into a sharehouse, can you believe it! We’re going places.”

“I never imagined we’d get this far,” Wataru confesses as he watches the evergreens pass by the window.

“Yet here we are. Isn’t that strange?”

It was. All those small coincidences and leaps of faith brought them here. If it were Wataru alone, he would have never barged into that karaoke room. He would’ve never chanced upon someone playing piano early in the morning. He wouldn’t have even considered trailing the footsteps of some online drumming hotshot if he’d refused Yuuto that day.

“If you hadn’t asked me then, I wouldn’t have been a part of it.” Wataru thinks out loud, his own voice feeling far away. “Argonavis would have had different lyrics. A different bassist.”

“I’m sure I would have found you sooner or later.” Yuu assures him. Wataru smirks at his confidence.

“Because it’s fate?”

“Because it’s fate,” Yuu confirms. “And there’s no one else I can see as my partner, you know?”

Wataru also learns, quickly, that Yuu also likes to throw around words that could give anyone the wrong idea. Fate. Destiny. My _partner_.

Perhaps this is all he’ll ever amount to; a small star in the sky that used to adorn the walls of his childhood room. A crewmate among many on Yuu’s ship as he takes the lead on a journey towards a trail of starlight. His partner; but not _quite_.

Perhaps this is all it will ever be.

“Guess I’ll have to follow you all the way, then.” Wataru smiles.

It’s uncomfortable in his own chest.

* * *

Wataru is not special to Yuu; not in the way he wants to be. And that’s okay.

He’d long past accepted their relationship for what it was: they’re past the age of believing in soulmates, in believing that small gestures of kindness are the gateway to a fulfilling romance and happily ever-afters. Analyzing Yuu’s behavior and what any of it meant was a slippery slope, and Wataru has always been afraid of injury.

It’s an ungodly hour and Yuu hasn’t come back yet. Wataru is on the couch as he rereads the latest message he’s received for the fifth time ( _onm way home, i’ll b late_ ), sighing when he realizes that it’s been 30 minutes and the mixer he’d gone to was barely 10 minutes away.

There’s a fumbling of a doorknob, and Wataru finally gets up from his seat to find Yuu, swaying as he strides in. From the entrance, Wataru watches the man fumble with his own shoes before he takes a hold of his arm to keep Yuu from falling.

“Watch your step,” he whispers. Yuu narrowly avoids Rio’s expensive-looking running shoes as he finds footing on the floor. His eyes are squinting from the bright light of the sharehouse.

“Sorry, sorry.” Yuu laughs. Wataru can smell the alcohol in his breath and clothes. He closes his eyes, already feeling his shoulders tense up as he bites back his impatience.

“Don’t tell me you drank too much _again_ ,” Wataru starts to scold him as he holds Yuu in place. “Honestly, after what happened last time, you still did that? We have practice tomorrow. What are we going to do if you—“

It’s only when Wataru opens his eyes that he sees Yuu had been looking at him. Closely, with an expression he’s never seen before.

“What is it,” he says. Wataru has gotten better over time at ignoring the clenching of his heart.

“Nothing,” Yuu gives him a slow, small smile. “I’m thinking I’m lucky I met you.”

Suddenly Yuu’s head is leaning on Wataru’s shoulder, his whole body dropping forward in his stupor. Yuu’s arms start to wrap around Wataru’s back, each hand stopping at his waist. Wataru’s eyes grow wide as he feels himself lean into the touch.

“Have I ever told you your hairpins are cute,” Yuu drawls. “Because they are. And so are you.”

“What are you talking about,” Wataru starts to pull at Yuuto’s back when he starts to nuzzle into him. “You’re drunk, Yuu. Go to bed.”

“And when you smile, you look like a cat.” Yuu's hold on him only tightens, like he isn’t finished talking. “A really cute cat. When I first met you, I thought you looked like a cat in the headlights.”

“That’s not how the saying goes,” Wataru’s ears feel hot. His neck tingles from the warm air of Yuu’s breath. “And stop calling me cute.”

“Beautiful, then.” His lips faintly dance on the skin of Wataru’s collarbone. Wataru gasps at the contact. “Or handsome?” Yuu giggles. “Both are true.”

It had to be the alcohol. This was nothing _but_ the alcohol.

“Stop it,” Wataru begs himself. Yuu might hear the loud thumping of his heart.

“No good?” Yuu whispers into his neck. Wataru can feel the warmth of his breath against his pulse. The hands on his waist slowly drag up his back. “Tell me, then. What should I call you?”

Yuu finally moves off Wataru’s shoulder only to stare him down with those blue eyes of his. Wataru can feel the tips of their noses touch.

“Go to bed,” he murmurs, feeling his own voice shaking.

“Wataru,” Yuu’s fingers run through the back of Wataru’s hair. “I think I might be—”

“Wataru? Yuuto?”

Banri’s voice calls them from the small hallway leading to the living room. There’s a groggy note in his voice, and Wataru feels a little apologetic for disturbing his sleep. He isn’t peeking at the scene unfolding in the entrance, so his tone is curious, unsure.

“It’s really late. Shouldn’t you two get some rest soon?”

Wataru takes the opportunity to shove Yuu, a little too harshly, away from his chest.

“We were just about to. Sorry for the noise.” And Wataru walks away; from the entrance, from the situation, from the question.

He doesn’t hear Yuu move from his spot, and it takes everything in him not to look back.

* * *

Wataru doesn’t dare bring it up.

Not because he’s afraid of knowing what it means, but because he already knows that it, like everything else, doesn’t mean anything.

Yuu is back to his loud and bright self the next morning as they go through another round of band practice. He laughs through his apologies for staying out so late, encourages Banri when he makes a small mistake, and obliges when Ren (unsurprisingly) asks to repeat the song one more time.

The weekends never seem to be long enough; before they know it, the day is almost over and the sky is another gradient of dark violet and bright orange.

Wataru is typing away at another literature assignment when Yuu knocks on his door.

“Wanna get dinner outside?” He says when the door opens. "I was thinking we could discuss some things for the band, and just uh." His hand moves up to scratch the back of his neck. "Hang out. You know?"

Wataru gets the feeling it isn’t just another night eating out, because they rarely do this in the first place; the times he and Yuu ‘hung out’ alone are few and far in between. There's nothing to really discuss for the band except to maybe write new songs for future albums, which Rio had discussed with Wataru in extensive detail.

“What about Banri and Rio?” Wataru asks, knowing very well Ren would pass on it; those outings with Asahi Nayuta from Gyroaxia are becoming more and more frequent.

“Uh, they’re… busy.” Yuu is looking at the corner of his own vision, as if avoiding Wataru’s gaze. “But really, I just wanted it to be the two of us. For reasons.”

“For reasons,” Wataru repeats.

Yuuto flushed, a little impatient. “Do you want to eat out or not?”

Wataru’s finding a common theme in his story. Yuu takes the initiative to do something, then asks Wataru to come along. Maybe that was why he resonated so well with those lyrics he'd written so long ago; and why Wataru simply lets him be dragged along for the ride.

“Sure,” he says despite his own judgement. Wataru prides himself on being realistic, but he's never claimed to be strong-willed.

"Great," Yuu sighs, as if in relief. Of what, Wataru tries not to imagine. "Let me just get my things."

* * *

What he didn’t expect was a pastry shop.

From the outside, it looks like any tiny food stall. But inside is a pretty pink paradise; small beautiful cakes lined with crisp sheets of plastic decorate the displays, each column of cake more enticing than the last. Next to the cheesecakes are mini chocolate pyramids, and to those, fruit covered shortcake. Yuu says something along the lines of them being too pretty to be eaten, but Yuu knew nothing about sweets. Aesthetics were, of course, part of the tasting experience.

Before Yuu even asks him what he wants, Wataru runs in line. Yuu laughs as he takes his side, teasing him a little about his sugar addiction as they wait. The fact that it was supposed to be dinner and not dessert escapes Wataru, and so does his initial reluctance to spend time alone with his bandmate.

“My friend recommended it,” Yuu says when Wataru asks how he found this hidden gem. They’re seated on one of the few chairs provided at the shop itself, the heaters working overtime to compensate for the freezing outdoor breeze of Shimokitazawa. “I figured you’d enjoy coming here, and I needed to destress, so...”

“If you did something and you’re trying to make up for it, tell me now.” Wataru takes out a small piece from the pointed tip of the cake slice ( _strawberry shortcake, of course_ ) with the small desert fork provided on the table. “I’d rather get angry now than after I’ve had my fill,” he squints, to which Yuu flinches at the accusation.

“I didn— I just wanted to take you somewhere nice!” Yuu exclaims, but uncharacteristically curls inwards and covers his own mouth shortly after. Yuu was known to be loud, but being ashamed of it was uncommon.

“... I mean, I guess I am a little guilty.” His voice was much softer now, a little contemplative. “For last night. I was being difficult again, wasn’t I?”

Wataru freezes at the mention of last night’s events, but soldiers on. “Yuu… It’s no big deal. I know how you are when you’re drunk.” The problem is that he knows a little _too much_ about Yuu. And if he thought about it, it truly was nothing out of the ordinary; a touchy feely Yuu was expected.

But there lies another problem, and they both knew it. “Still… I said some weird things last night.” Yuu’s looking down at his own hands on the table, both clasped together in a tense hold. “I didn’t want to scare you off like that.”

“Mhm.” Wataru doesn’t trust himself to speak; the way Yuu hits the mark without trying is already scary in itself.

There’s a long pause and Wataru wants to fill it, to comfort him, make him feel safe; but the fear of letting everything spill from his mouth weighs in heavier than his sympathy.

“I know I get too ahead of myself,” Yuu starts instead, “And that I say things out of line, all the time. So tell me if you want me to back off, or to do something as an apology.” Wataru watches as Yuu’s hands break out of their hold and start to clench into fists. He’s heard him be vulnerable before, but this felt different. “I don’t… want this to get in the way of the band.”

“Yuu,” he starts. Watching Yuu kick himself is never fun. “I’m not angry. You didn’t do anything terrible. I was just surprised. I promise.” Wataru never knows if he’s reassuring enough, caring enough; but he does his best to express it. If anyone deserved compassion, it was Yuu.

“You’re not afraid of me?” Yuu doesn’t look up, but hands are a little less tight. Wataru reaches for them, and for once, pulls Yuu in.

Yuu’s hands are calloused, bigger than his own. But they still radiate the same heat. Wataru smiles, just allowing himself to feel. These were the same hands that changed his life that one fateful meeting.

“Why would I be? You’re nothing to be scared of.” He looks up and finds that Yuu has that strange expression again. But Wataru isn’t afraid anymore.

“We’re partners, right?” he asks Yuu. The other blinks, but slowly returns a smile.

“Yeah,” Yuu whispers. “Partners.”

It’s Wataru’s turn to take the lead. Just this once.

“I already promised you, I’ll stick with you until the end.”

* * *

“So did you do it?” Reon asks as he does some last minute tuning to his acoustic guitar. Yuuto is taking up the rest of the bench as he lies on it; holding a book to the sky as he shields himself from the blinding sun.

“I did _not_.” Yuuto closes his eyes. The book isn’t enough to protect him. He hears Reon scoff, and scowls. “Go ahead. Call me a coward.”

“I don’t have to if you already know it.” Reon strums his guitar and checks if it’s back to standard tuning. “You have the nerve to come crying to me about your love life until my ears fall off but the moment you’re in front of him, you dry up? Coward isn’t even the half of it.”

“He called me his _partner_ ,” Yuuto groans, covering his face with the book. He can feel the heat rising up his face as the book adds to the temperature. “I know I said it first, and that he didn’t mean it that way, but…”

“Disgusting. I can’t be here.” Yuuto can hear the zipping of a guitar case and feel the movement of Reon standing up from the movement on his hair. Yuuto sits up and takes the book off his face in time to watch Reon leave him during his time of need. “See you next time Yuuto. Hopefully when you stop being a dumbass.”

And as if by fate (pure coincidence was just _impossible_ , he knows this), his partner happened to walk through the corridor and catch his eye. As Wataru smiles at him, Yuuto doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of this sight; his spiky pink hair, his emerald eyes, and that cute, cat-like smile.

“I hope I stop being one, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FOR MY GIRL FRIZZ ADVANCED HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i rlly tried my best to stay patient and post this for ur bday but i got ahead of myself lmao, i hope u like it ????
> 
> This fic is also dedicated to my friends Rey and Seni who are our mutual friends (and yuuwata enablers) and to my other writer friends Mage and Mish, who helped out with viewing the fic and giving me their input before I published it for real. All of you tru MVPs. This fic is also dedicated to you, dear reader, who gave this ship a try !!
> 
> [follow me on twitter](http://twitter.com/captaindaichi) and scream about yuuwata with me!


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